Weighted
Prologue
Being around people was never really his strong suit. Though, perhaps it was the crowds that bothered him, the noise that buzzed incessantly and reverberated as an ache across the plate on his chest. The Hierarchy had enough funds to send them half way across the galaxy to seemingly insignificant colonies but never enough to actually fix the scars of its soldiers. Although, perhaps it was a time issue more than anything else; nothing ever seemed to slow down, even when it should have.
He would always pass the time on those quiet stops searching for messages that would never come, trying desperately to ignore the quickly changing world around him. Despite the constant pull from his peers, he could never quite enter the same mindset of those who had always been in a perpetual state of war. Where his squad saw every stop as their last, he never really saw himself existing there at all; he had left himself tethered to the end of a relay message set adrift in radio static. If he was still the officer he used to be, he would have let things be, recognized the past for what it was and focus on helping to build a new life around him. He would have reveled in the victory day celebrations, sought comfort in those with shared heartache, even search for meaning through family as his brother did. Tertius Aquilin, for all his formal turian teachings and Citadel security discipline, just couldn't let it go. He just couldn't be there, in the moment, and see beyond what was staring right at him.
And what had been staring at him on that particular afternoon drew his eyes up out of his omni-tool. Through the orange huge of his screen he noticed a little asari girl, slightly older than the state of peacetime, glancing through the silent video message he watched with a pair of oddly green colored eyes. He thought nothing of it at the time, assuming her to be the product of the 'baby boom' that followed during and shortly after the war on every populated world. This, of course, was especially true in the outer most colonies that had been so badly affected by the Reaper's onslaught. On the dusty, dreary back world where his squad frequently refueled between missions, nothing about the populace or their home had seemed that out of the ordinary. The charred remains of their previous lives had been slowly peeled away, settling as powdery ash over the newly sowed earth. It was clear they wanted nothing more than to get back to their lives, the only solid reminder of their despair looming along the sunset's horizon as a dark, disfigured mountain.
The little girl smiled when he nodded in acknowledgement, "Hello there. Can I help you with something?"
She nodded a reply, taking his right hand quickly. Though he hesitated, he received a dismissive wave from his brother after glancing over towards him, finding him tending to an argument between a merchant and another soldier. Helping with anything was better than standing there looking lost and, having nothing else to do, the little girl lead him away from the bustling center of town. They didn't wander very far before the buildings gave way to the wide open crop fields, the child releasing her grip and running over to the edge of tall, swaying reeds. He was confused at first as to what she wanted from him exactly, kneeling down next to her as she scratched away at the weeds and rocks nestled along the roadside. Eventually, however, she disturbed enough of the tangled mass of plant life to reveal a small, oddly shaped flower that, under the dim shadow of the setting sun, glowed a soft blue. With its bioluminescence reflecting in her hands, she gently plucked it and presented it to him, beaming.
"Oh, this is, uh, nice," he said kindly, although he wasn't entirely sure what to say beyond that.
"It's mother's eyes," she whispered softly, as if saying it any louder would cause it to blow away in the wind.
"Your mother has blue eyes?" he asked, and was surprised when she shook her head. The girl paused for a moment, though, correcting herself.
"Well, she didn't use to have blue eyes, but she did for a little while," she replied, taking the flower back. "She's with the Goddess now, but I can always find her here."
"I see." The war had certainly done a number on everyone and children were no exception. They were perhaps the worst to be affected, unable to truly grasp the horrors that had happened to them or their loved ones. It was far easier to tell them metaphoric stories than the unbridled truth; he was just glad he didn't have children yet. Still, that didn't prevent him from feeling a shared sorrow with anyone who had lost something, and everyone had lost someone. "I'm sorry that happened to your family. Your mother would be very proud—"
"You can find her here too," she interrupted, turning the flower over and examining closer. Lifting it up to him again, she smiled, almost completely oblivious to his previous remarks. It was as if she didn't recognize the permanency of death.
He humored her, though. "Find who? Your mother?"
She shook her head, gesturing to his omni-tool. "Her. I saw her just a minute ago! She's…where…"
Tertius sat back on his heels, watching her take the flower back for a second time in frustration. It was a distinct possibility that, on top of the terrible trauma a small Terminus world faced, isolation may have made classical symptoms of delusion so much worse. Her behavior seemed innocent enough and, if this had been about anyone else, he would have written it off as an overactive imagination trying to cope. As her big, bright green eyes stared almost right through him, however, he almost started to believe that she was actually seeing something he couldn't. It was that growing belief that casted an overwhelming shadow of dread, forcing him to stand away from the clutches of a potential reality he wasn't ready to be buried in. She blinked in surprise, Tertius tilting his head with a sigh.
"It's okay, maybe later," he said, extending a hand for her to stand. "Let's go find your mother, hm?"
She huffed sadly, nodding as she set the flower back into the dirt. Before she could reach for him, however, there was a sudden wave of screams and gunshots. The sounds echoed on the walls of the quiet village coming from where they had left, Tertius pulling his rifle off his back and arming it. He waved silently for the little girl to find shelter, finding that she seemed to already know what to do before he suggested it.
He had heard the same song and dance before. Even the pattern of gunfire was gravely familiar, recognizing it from skirmishes around other old battlefields. "The Twelfth Labour", they called themselves, something relevant to human mythology he never cared to learn. He barely cared to know what they stood for, only that they were mortal like every other cult, gang, or pirate group. They invaded areas that still had Reaper remnants, deeming certain inhabitants of these particular worlds as "damaged" or "infected" and murdering civilians on the basis of seemingly baseless criteria that no governmental organization could figure out. Though they had been an all but insignificant fringe group for years, their numbers had increased at an alarming rate; Tertius had unfortunately been subject to a few of their surprise attacks on colonies they had visited. There was usually minimal damage at any given encounter, considering the paramilitary group had a negligible amount of funds and, ultimately, an inadequate amount of firepower against something like a turian taskforce.
At least, that's the way it had always been before.
The moments that followed were a whirlwind of faded light and heat sinks, Tertius barely remembering how he got back to his squad. The dying light of the day had given way to dancing flames, structures taken apart and bodies littering the ground. He recalled his brother saying something in the haze, about how the enemy had changed tactics and weren't being discriminant in their targets, but all he could see were people rushing towards him. As he made his way back under cover fire, helping people along into a secure bunker area that had, until that point, remained a sealed relic, he managed to get to the door before he saw the little girl from earlier. His right arm extended quickly, managing to grasp onto her hand before—
—
A suffocated gasp filled his lungs as he sat upright, jostled from his nightmare to a dark and quiet room. His throat burned from the bruising stranglehold of his memories, feeling cold despite the almost sweltering climate. It only took a moment before he realized his reality, a sharp, sickening pain stabbing into his upper right arm. Rolling over quickly to his nightstand, he fumbled in the soft blue light of the outside between his omni-tool and an old medallion of a human holy man, planting his feet onto the carpet when he managed to turn the lamp on. There was a moment when he realized he hadn't taken a breath, shakily running his talons along the aging orange tattoos on his face. They were becoming as worn away as his nerve, angry with himself and his restless mind as he reached for the bottle of pain medication nearby.
Tertius stood in the presence of a quiet night, going to his open window to inspect the grounds. It seemed like even the Alliance members had become bored with the striking scenery and finally gone to bed, leaving the still cove to its peace. The water glowed as bright blue as ever, the flora along the mountains on either side of the facility illuminating like small torch fires in the darkness. He knew, objectively, it was a beautiful sight to behold, but he had grown disenchanted by it many sleepless nights ago. Clenching his jaw through the growing nausea, he turned away and made his way through the open bedroom door to the small kitchen on the other side of his quarters. Though only slightly bigger than his previous living accommodations, it felt almost twice as hollow, even more so in the large shadows casted by his dusty old furniture. There was a moment when he considered turning on his vid screen, maybe watch a news cast or vid, but the thought was fleeting for something more worthwhile.
Pouring a sliver of warm liquid from its hiding place under his sink, he took what pills he needed and walked back over to his desk in the bedroom. Papers were scattered about from the wind rustling them to the floor, Tertius remembering that he had been too tired to organize them properly. Seeing them separated so blatantly, though, made him chuckle; so much useless scribbling that no one save him and maybe a few humans could understand. Still, it was his useless scribbling, and he was almost proud to see how far he had come from when he started years ago. A thought came to mind as he ordered them neatly again, sitting on the creaky metal stool he had found himself at so many times before. Another restless night called for another useless, scribbled letter, one that he hoped, someday, might finally send his spirit back to him.
A/N Uh...hi! It's been a while! For those of you who are new, this story is a squeal to "Waiting", found here: s/7940103/1/Waiting . For those of you who know this story, it's been a long, long, long time coming and I'm sorry for the wait, (no pun intended). But we're here now and I'm happy to get back into it!
As a further brief summary, the events here take place five years after the epilogue of the last story, post-ME3 and destroy ending. Despite a near galactic-wide extinction event, peace doesn't last in the face of profiteering and old habits die hard. Terrible high jinks ultimately ensue. This story will be rated T momentarily, but may, (and, honestly probably will), go up to M. Topics include swearing, smoking, alcoholism, violence, physical and psychological horror, suggestive thematic elements, and tough topics associated with war and its aftermath. If anyone would like or needs a warning on these things, I'd be happy to provide it as a small note at the beginning of chapters that feature them.
Also, if anyone has any suggestions - grammar, story, or whatever - please let me know. I'm not perfect, my writing is still 'meh', so I could use all the help I can get.
Thank you kindly for stopping by, and I hope you enjoy!